Ingenuous Upon The Malevolent Mind
by triggerhappy.antagonist
Summary: When The Aztec Gold Curse Is Lifted, The Results Take Affect On Jack And Interfere With His Body's Normal Performance, Thus Reverting Him Back Into A Toddler. [Prior To Dead Man's Chest]
1. Of Change

**This Is My First (Non-Humor) Pirates Of The Caribbean Story. I Came Up With The Idea Many Weeks Ago, But Never Actually Got Around To Typing It Out Until Now. This Took Me A Long Time To Type, As I Had To Stop Every Now-And-Then To Gain More Needed Information From Various Websites. I'm Quite Pleased With How It Has Turned Out, And I Only Pray The Continuing Chapters Will Turn Out As Good. I Really Hope You Read Through The Whole Chapter. That Would Really Make My Work Worthwhile. Thank You For Your Time.**

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It was almost as if it were all happening in slow motion. Barbossa and Jack were engaged in a life-or-death fight, Jack stood with his sword drawn only inches away from Barbossa, who held high his pistol, ready to fire at the motionless Elizabeth.

Time seemed to pass slowly, seconds passing on like minutes, neither man nor woman allowed themselves to move. A moment of tense silence passed, and was quickly broken by the fire of a gunshot.

Elizabeth gasped, eyes wide with fright. You could tell by the look on her face that she expected the shot to be fired at her, and moments later she would be dead, lying in a pool of her own blood.

Barbossa had anticipated the same thing; that he had been the one to fire his gun. But then why was he still fingering the trigger? Had he not just fired? And why…why did he feel so cold all of a sudden?

His face fell, eyes turning from ocean-green to weary grey in only seconds. He jerked his head around, only to find himself staring at a very earnest-looking Jack Sparrow. His pistol was held at arms length, and swirls of dull smoke encircled his form, giving him a somewhat mysterious appearance.

Barbossa's rugged mouth curved into a triumphant smirk. His silver-grey eyes glistened playfully in the dim light of the moon. He regarded Jack with a tilt of his head, one which seemed to express the words, "It's over."

"Ten years you carry that pistol," Barbossa spat in a mocking tone, repeatedly changing his expression to make it more demeaning. "Now you waste your shot." He trailed the O in the word shot, so the word itself sounded emphasized.

"He didn't waste it." Will's monotone voice cut through, catching the attention of the two men. Barbossa spun around to face Will, who glared back with a blank expression written on his face. And although his features expressed deadpan, his eyes were swimming with various emotions that were difficult to decipher.

Barbossa overlooked the scene before him in horror. Will stood atop the mountain of shimmering treasures, his left arm extended over the chest of Aztec gold. In his right hand he clutched tightly to a rusted knife, the slightly arched tip stained with blood.

Without a second's hesitation, Will unclenched his fist and dropped 2 crimson-tainted pieces of shining gold. 4 pairs of expanded eyes followed the 2 precious pieces, until they finally landed in the center of the chest, evoking the other surrounding pieces to shift slightly.

The sound that followed rang in everyone's ears as loud as a bell; the sound of life being restored, of mortality being returned.

Elizabeth was the first to move, sighing in relief, and allowing a faint smile to play on her lips as she gazed up at Will, then back to Barbossa.

Barbossa's head spun around to face Jack, who still hadn't moved from his position. His dark kohl-lined eyes bore deeply into Barbossa's soul.

Beads of sweat dotted Barbossa's forehead. He hastily tossed away his gun and gripped the front of his overcoat, carefully tearing it open to reveal the white shirt underneath, which now had a small bullet hole just above his left breast.

Blood began to trickle from the wound in little rivulets, small at first but gradually growing larger until the entire left side of Barbossa's shirt was soaked through with blood.

Barbossa slowly raised his head, his dullened eyes gazing off into the distance. A strange smile graced his lips, and he shook his head from side-to-side, a look of disbelief on his sweat-covered face.

Jack leisurely lowered his pistol, his eyes still fixed upon Barbossa, waiting for him to draw his final breath and die.

Barbossa opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He tried several times, until comprehendible words finally formed.

"I feel…" he trailed off, eyes once again dulling to an even colder shade of grey. The weird grin faded from his lips, and was replied by a disbelieving frown. "…_Cold_." Was the last word he uttered before tipping backwards and collapsing into a collection of shiny coins.

Every ounce of life drained from his body, leaving only the soulless corpse of a vulgar Captain to rot in the sand. The 20-year-old curse that had plagued the Black Pearl crewmen was lifted, leaving them to be cold mortal men again.

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The consequences prior to the lifting of the curse began to take affect on the crewmen. They began to feel old, mentally and physically, they began to feel numb and cold, like the icy grip of death was upon them. They began to feel old wounds, which they had never felt before. They began to feel pain, suffering, the warm feeling of blood coursing down clammy flesh. They began to feel alive.

The results that plagued the Black Pearl's crewmen began to affect Jack as well. The cold, the pain, the numbness, the icy grip, he could feel it all at once. He tried to ignore it at first, to push aside his pain as he had several times before.

But the strange feelings soon started to change. Jack began to feel hot, very hot, as if burning flames had ignited from within him. He began to feel dizzy and nauseas, like he felt when he suffered from a ferocious hangover. His vision became blurry; odd shapes and figures appeared before him.

When he moved, he felt like his whole body was coated with thick lead, and heavy chains had been attached to his limbs. He could no longer feel his fingers or toes, nor see the ground that was once just below him.

He tried to take a step, but ended up nearly pitching forward. He held out his arms to keep his balance and took a second step. This time he managed to do so, but quickly regretted it when his vision began to swim in colors of grey and gold.

Jack barely managed to make out the distorted form of Will in front of him. The young Turner was staring at him curiously, his lips moving but no sound emitting from them. Jack blinked and strained his ears, trying to catch what the young lad was saying. But all he could make out was low mumbling noises.

Jack opened his mouth to ask the young man to repeat what he'd just said, but strangely enough, no words could form in his mouth. His throat felt incredibly swollen and dry as sandpaper. His tongue, much like his throat, felt like a giant sponge, and seemed to flop about uselessly in his mouth.

Elizabeth had joined Will, and was now staring intently at Jack as if he had gone insane. Despite his anomalous illness, Jack found this quite humorous. And a lopsided grin curved onto the older mans' rugged features.

Jack began to sway –much to the displeasure of his acquaintances, who had to back up to avoid being hit- in a slow, steady motion, like grass being blown by wind.

It started slowly at first, but steadily grew until he was almost rocking on the balls of his feet. It was a wonder he hadn't keeled over already.

As if on cue, Jack's body quivered lightly, then seized up and tilted backward. Fortunately, Will stepped forward just in time and gripped the loose material of Jack's vest, steadying his descend towards the ground.

The quirky pirate let out a hoarse chuckle, though he himself was unaware of it. This act seemed to both anger and frighten Will, who tenaciously hauled Jack into an upright position. The swift motion evoked aching throbs in Jack's head, and his swirling vision became fuzzy.

Will shook Jack soundly, attempting to snap him out of the sudden daze. When that proved futile, he proceeded to shout –almost scream- at the older man.

"Jack! Jack! Wake up, you barmy pirate! _Darnit_- Jack!" Will raised his voice each time the ill buccaneer's name passed his lips. His grip on Jack had tightened, and the constant shaking had become more violent. Clearly, Will thought Jack was only joking, which provoked the young Turner greatly.

Elizabeth stood behind Will, gently clutching the sleeve of his shirt. A look of anxiety shone in her brown eyes, and it was not just for the wellbeing of the obnoxious pirate.

"Will, we should really chip. I reckon those pirates will be back at any moment!" she explained with a note of worry in her tone.

Will halted and jerked his head around to face the entrance of the cavern. As he did so, Jack –who was only semi-conscious- pulled away from Will's grasp and stepped back, gazing at his friends with glazed-over, unfocused eyes.

He blinked once, a second lopsided smile appearing on his face, and shakily raised a finger, as if to point something out. His mouth opened and closed several times, many different sounds emitting each time, like he was having trouble forming words.

Finally, he managed to regain his voice, albeit only for a moment. "R-Really should break 'is treasure fetish o' mine…" Jack mumbled incoherently. The words sounded foreign coming from his mouth, and didn't seem to fit right.

Jack's body seized up again, and he stood still as a marble statue. His eyes expanded until they were almost round, before rolling back in his head. His body followed suit, lurching forward like a plank being knocked over. He hit the ground face-first and landed in a pile of coins, which made a notorious ringing sound on impact.

Will and Elizabeth merely gawked at his fallen figure, not quite sure what to do. They were half expecting him to rise up again, maybe chortle afew times and confess that he was only joking. Though from the way he lay there, unmoving with his face planted in a pile of cold, jagged coins, it would seem he wasn't fooling around.

Another bout of silence passed, but was indecisively broken when Elizabeth cleared her throat. "W-What do you suppose we do now?" she questioned tentatively, trying to cloak her anxiety behind a stiff, audacious mask.

Will breathed a silent sigh. "We should really get out of here –quickly." He replied hesitantly.

Elizabeth's gaze fell upon the unconscious pirate, and she voiced the question the two had discreetly been contemplating for awhile; "What do we do with Jack?"

The young Turner had thought about this. To be blunt, they couldn't really do much of anything. The navy –led by Norrington- was waiting outside the cavern. If they were to exit with Jack, he would immediately be hung. And it would be quite unfair to hang an ill man.

And Barbossa's crew –what about them? The curse had obviously been lifted, but had they won against the crew Jack had recruited in Tortuga? Jack's outcome would be somewhat similar if Barbossa's men caught him.

Will heaved another sigh. "Our only option is to sneak him passed the navy. We'll commandeer a ship and sail back to Tortuga, drop him off there and claim him as dead." He paused, going over the plan in his mind.

Elizabeth dipped her head in agreement, but otherwise said nothing. She gathered up what little belongings were needed and crept over to the entrance of the cavern, keeping an ear out for any suspicious sounds that may lead to an assault.

Will gave Jack afew good jabs to ensure that he was truly unconscious and not just faking. He then hooked his arms under Jack's armpits and hauled him into a flaccid sitting position.

When the deadweight of the pirate proved too difficult for Will to move alone, he settled upon wrapping his arms around Jack's chest and modestly dragging him across the ground in a slow, unsteady tugging motion.

"Is the coast clear?" Will addressed Elizabeth in a dull whisper. He tried hard not to breathe to avoid gagging at the smell of the passed-out pirate, who reeked of sweat, sea salt and rum.

"It's hard to tell," Elizabeth hissed back. "All I can see is fog…" she paused, then quickly added, "I honestly don't think there's a ship out there. Surely I would be able to hear it."

Will finally reached the place where Elizabeth stood, which was quite an accomplishment itself. He unceremoniously released Jack, causing him to flop back in a languid motion.

When the young Turner glanced upon the outside of the cavern, he discovered that Elizabeth was right. The entire island –far as the eye could see- was blanketed in thick fog. There was absolutely nothing in sight. Will was sure that if he even held his hand at arms length it would completely disappear from view.

He strained his ears for any sign of a ship; the sound of water moving, men talking, anything. All he heard were waves lapping at the shore.

"Clearly we can sneak passed unnoticed." Elizabeth whispered. "In all this fog, who would see us?"

Will nodded and once again gathered up the limp form of the ill scallywag. The two walked slowly and warily outside the cavern and passed a small bend. Elizabeth fingered the high rock cliffs, relying on them to guide her in a safe route.

Will was having a tough time trying to haul Jack through the rocks and sand beneath them. His boots dragged in the dirt and made low hissing noises, like boulders rolling in grit. The blacksmith was also unable to see where he was going and depended on Elizabeth to steer him in the right direction.

Meanwhile, Will slipped into the dark place in the back of his brain to contemplate, and to take his mind off of the unsighted path ahead.

He thought about his plan. Would it really work? Where were they supposed to find a ship? How would they make it to Tortuga blindly? What if the navy or Barbossa's now-mortal crew caught them? What would they do after abandoning Jack in Tortuga?

Will's eyes hardened. _They_…he had used the word they, meaning him and Elizabeth. He had yet to admit his undying love for her, for fear of being rejected. After all, she was the Governor's daughter, and he was a meager blacksmith. They lived in two separate worlds, which could never be together.

After all he'd done for her; risking his soul, his reputation, his _life_, it was all for naught. They would sail back to Port Royal, and she would go back to being the beautiful, _untouchable_ Governor's daughter. Probably end up betrothing a man such as Norrington. Will would return to his job as a blacksmith, that is if he still had his job. After freeing a pirate from jail, commandeering a ship, and sailing off against the navy's permission, it was doubtful that he could still retain his career.

Mayhap he could begin his life anew; sail back to Tortuga and follow his Father's footsteps in becoming a pirate. Mayhap he could leave Elizabeth and his old life behind, steal a seaworthy vessel and recruit a crew, appoint himself Captain and drift through the seas, into the everlasting horizon…

Will was jolted out of his thoughts by Elizabeth's screeching. He shook his head, blinked and tried to register what she was saying.

"-There! There's a ship, just to the right! I can barely see its mast!" The young woman cried in both fear and excitement. This may be their only chance of getting off this island. That is, if it wasn't the navy or Barbossa's crew, of course.

Will strained his eyes to see through the heavy mist, and scarcely caught sight of a large mast flapping in the wind. The ship was moving exceptionally fast, considering its height and width, and its outline soon came into view, to which Will and Elizabeth identified it as…

"It's the Black Pearl!"

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Will and Elizabeth gasped and pushed themselves up against the slimy rock wall. Jack, who had been immediately dropped when the ship came in sight, now lay motionless and unwanted in the dirt. Will attempted to cover his senseless body by kicking sand on it, but his job was less-than-well done, and only a quarter of Jack's figure was hidden.

The Black Pearl was less than 50 feet from the three. They could now almost clearly make out its fine markings and dark sails swaying with the breeze. Unfortunately, they were yet to make out who the Helmsman was, much to their dismay.

Will's breath caught in his throat. They were trapped now; there was no exit in sight. All they had been through was for naught.  
Sure, he had managed to rescue Elizabeth, but she'd probably just be recaptured, and worse yet, put to death.

Jack's outcome would mirror Elizabeth's. He was surely to die, it was guaranteed. No second thought about it. And Will? He hadn't a clue of his fate. He had lifted the curse, after all. Maybe they would let him off easy.

Chances are they would just maroon him on an island, as they had with Jack twice before. Jack had been lucky though, and escaped both times. Will on the other hand, would probably end up dying from dehydration or starvation. Whichever came first.

But if he did escape from the island…then what? What was the point in living if the only woman he loved was dead? He had risked his life for Elizabeth, he had been willing to give up his life for hers. She _was_ his life; his reason for living.

The young Turner squeezed his eyes shut. They were going to die here, he knew it. He didn't want to die without first confessing his love for Elizabeth. If he did nothing else in his life, he might as well do this.

Will opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emitted. His throat was parched and felt like it was coated in sandpaper. He cleared his throat, swallowed, and tried again.

"Elizabeth?" he addressed the young woman, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Elizabeth cocked her head to one side and returned Will's gaze. Even in the dim light, Will could see fear glimmering in her dark eyes.

"W-We've been through so much together," Will began in a quiet, steady tone. "I just...before we d-…if…if we don't survive…I…I…" Will trailed off, the courage he felt moments ago seeping away.

Will drew in a sharp breath and let his eyes wander off to the Black Pearl, which was still gently drifting in the dark waters. It was so close now, Will could actually trace the outline of the Helmsman steering the vessel, though he was yet to figure out who it was.

The ship would reach them in only a matter of minutes. The next few moments that may decide whether or not they survive were ticking away slowly. Will inhaled softly, taking in the bitter scent of the Caribbean sea.

"What is it, Will? What were you going to say?" Elizabeth questioned uneasily, refusing to peel her eyes away from the large ship that stood only meters from them.

"I…I…" Will's heart thumped loudly in his ears. He pressed his back against the jagged rock, letting the cold feeling wash over him like a malevolent wave. "I...I l-l…_I love_…"

He was cut short by the sound of yelling; loud, boisterous yelling. It was like a slap to the face. He had been so close to admitting his true feelings, off by only one word.

The two jerked their attention toward the direction of the shouts. Will with a look of distress and moderate anger; Elizabeth with a look of apprehensiveness and slight hope.

The shouts appeared to be coming from the Black Pearl. Upon closer inspection, they discovered three or four figures leaning over the railing on the larboard side of the hull, waving their arms about wildly.

Elizabeth was first to recognize the voices. "It's the crew –Jack's crew!" she cried excitedly, squinting against the fog. "They attained the Black Pearl!"

Will exhaled a sigh of relief. But in the very back of his mind, where he kept his deepest, darkest secrets, he was rather disappointed. He was almost –_almost_- looking forward to commandeering a ship and sailing back to Port Royal with Elizabeth. Atleast that way he'd have some time alone with her.

The Black Pearl wasted no time in mooring or anchoring itself in the sand. The Helmsman –who turned out to be Anamaria- turned the ship sharply on its side when they were close enough to the shore for the three to climb aboard.

"Oy, get a move on, you barmy land-lubbers!" Anamaria barked at Will and Elizabeth, who were still in awe at the fact that the crew had obtained the Black Pearl.

Several halyards were tossed overboard and secured to the railing with a tight hitch. Elizabeth spared no time and waded into the water until she was close enough to grasp a rope.

Will hooked his fingers under Jack's arms and half-dragged, half-carried him into the shallow water. He then proceeded to lug the pirate toward the Black Pearl, struggling to keep Jack's head above water.

When he was close enough to grab onto one of the halyards, Will was faced with another obstacle; how to hold onto both the rope and Jack. Fortunately, that problem was quickly solved when Duncan –a middle-aged crewman Jack had recruited in Tortuga- shimmied down one of the ropes to retrieve the unconscious pirate.

Duncan slipped into the water without a sound and effortlessly hauled Jack by the open collar of his shirt and slung him over one shoulder. He gave Will a stoic sideways glance before slowly ascending back up the halyards.

Will, now relieved of his burden, blinked and shook his head, trying to process the situation. It was all happening so fast…one moment Elizabeth and him were fearing for their lives, convinced that they were dead, the next they were climbing aboard the Black Pearl, now captained by Jack's crew. Better yet, the two were still alive.

One of the more-so rude pirates aboard the ship spat over the side, catching Will right between the eyes and ceasing his train of thoughts.

"Grab the bloody rope, you divvy swine!" the obnoxious pirate –who Will recognized as Ladbroc- bellowed in a deep voice. Will was quick to comply, tightly grasping a halyard and allowing himself to be hauled aboard.

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**Well, I Think I'll End It Here. Depending On The Number Of Reviews I Receive, I May Or May Not Continue With The Next Chapter. I Apologize If There Are Any Spelling Or Grammar Mistakes I Missed, Or If I Messed Something Up. I Spent 3 Days Looking Up Information On _Pirates Of The Caribbean_, The Different Islands, Cursed Aztec Gold And What-Not, And Also Managed To Watch Both Movies Twice So I Could Get A Feel For Jack, Will And Elizabeth's Personalities.**

**And To Those Who Are Wondering Why Jack Was The Only One Affected By The Lifting Of The Curse… I Don't Know Why. I Have A Theory, Which I Invented Randomly One Night Whilst Contemplating. The Curse Is Approx. 20 Years Old, Correct? And Though I Don't Know If This Is True Or Not, I've Been Told That Jack Was Only Cursed For A Second, When He Sneaked A Coin From The Chest Near The End Of The Movie. Rumor Has It He Tossed It Back To Will Before He Dropped Them Into The Chest, Ergo The Reason Will Drops 2 Coins Into The Chest.**

**Anyway, My Theory Is, Since Jack Only Temporarily Obtained The Curse, It's Effects Wore Slowly On Him, Only Just Beginning To Affect Him Before Being Lifted. Thus It Interfered With His Body's Normal Performance And Functioning, Which In Turn Reverted Him Back Into A Toddler. (Hey, It's Pirates Of The Caribbean…Anything's Possible.)**

**I Do Hope You Read The Next Chapter (Which I Am Currently Working On,) As I Will Be Explaining Toddler!Jack's Characteristics, Appearance And His Reaction To The Crew (And Vice-Versa.)**

**Thank You For Taking The Time To Read This. Reviews Will Be Greatly Appreciated.**


	2. Of Discovery

**I Feel A Sincere Apology Is In Order. I Know I Took An Excruciatingly Long Time Typing Out The Second Chapter. I've Just Been Very Busy Of Late, What With Babysitting, My Messed-Up Sleep Cycle, Insomnia And What-Not, It's Rather Difficult To Find Time To Type. But, Fortunately, I Did Manage To Finish This One. So Please, Enjoy.**

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Will stood silently on the starboard side of the Black Pearl, gazing out at the dark sea with grey-brown eyes, swirling with solicitous and thought. In his left hand, Will clutched tightly to a chunk of holystone, tenaciously squeezing it and turning it in his palm, like the thoughts that kept rolling in his mind.

He felt confused, neurotic, ashamed, hatred—all at once. But above all, he felt anger. Anger toward Barbossa and his crew, for messing with Cortez's gold. Anger toward Jack Sparrow, for getting him into this mess. Anger toward his Father, for ditching him and giving him the cursed Aztec gold. Anger toward Norrington, for refusing to help Elizabeth. Anger toward himself, for messing everything up.

Why did he do it? Why didn't he just leave after rescuing Elizabeth? Forget Jack—it was his fault in the first place. He should have just commandeered a ship and bunked-off.

He continued to churn the rough sandstone, drinking up the painful sensation it brought upon his hard, blistered hand. It was soothing; the stinging feel of grit rubbing against open wounds.

Will thought back to when he and Elizabeth had first boarded the Black Pearl—which was not two days ago. He remembered being hauled aboard, slipping over the railing and lying on the warmed surface of the wooden boards, catching his breath and rubbing sea salt out of his eyes.

He remembered seeing Duncan and Gibbs drag the still unconscious Jack down the companionway and into the Captain's cabin, where they gently laid him on the berth and covered him in a thin quilt.

He remembered looking up into the many faces of Jack's crewman—or crewwoman, in Anamaria's case. He recalled the look on their faces; stoic, emotionless, with a glint of accusation in their eyes.

He remembered hastily averting his eyes and struggling to his feet, wringing the water out of his hair and garments. He had stood motionless for a moment, contemplating what to do next. But when he looked up, the crewman had all left, though their dark, glowering stares still lingered.

Of course, it was to expect; they were pirates, after all. The next several hours had been rough on everyone. Though they refused to openly admit it, they were all wondering what had happened to Jack.

Jack had yet to slip from his coma. Occasionally, someone would check in on him. But the only ones permitted to do so were Gibbs and Anamaria, conceivably because they had known him for quite some time.

Supposedly, his condition was stable. He showed no signs of illness, no symptoms, no change whatsoever. According to Gibbs, he was suffering from side effects prior to the lifting of the curse.

Though said effects remained unidentified, it was certain that Jack had a fever of over 100°, and his skin was slowly fading to a deathly pale with an unhealthy greyish cast.

When the symptoms refused to go away, new plans were made. As it was very possible for the navy or Barbossa's crew to still be lurking around, they had decided to keep the ship hidden in the fog. To do so they had to drift far out to sea, were a thick blanket of fog always hung in the air.

They would wait for awhile, and simply drift in the ocean. The exact amount of time was unknown, but Anamaria once stated that they would commence sailing to Tortuga when Jack awoke—that is, if he ever would.

So that's where Will was today, leaning against the railing on the Black Pearl, waiting and thinking. To pass the time he had been asked to scrub the decks with holystone—more than once, actually. But rather than scrub, he instead became distracted by his own ignominy, and spent countless hours staring out at the sea and wishing he could just float off with the waves.

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"Will…Will…Will…"

Someone was calling to him.

"Will…Will…"

They were saying more, several words all jumbled together to make an incoherent sentence, but all he could comprehend was his name.

"Will…wake…up…"

Will shifted uncomfortably and twitched open one eye. His vision was blurred, and all he could see was a disfigured shadow looming in front of him. He lazily turned onto his side and cracked open his other eye, tiredly rubbing the grogginess from the first one.

"Beg your pardon?" he mumbled quietly. When his vision cleared, he found himself staring into the dark, clouded eyes of Elizabeth, who was kneeling before him with her hand resting on his shoulder.

The young Turner stiffly raised himself into a languid sitting position, only then discovering that he had fallen out of the uncomfortable, foul-smelling hammock the other crewmen called a "berth". He grunted and rubbed the kinks out of his neck, whilst focusing his gaze upon Elizabeth.

Despite the fact that it had only been two days, her outward exterior had changed considerably. Upon first arrival aboard the Black Pearl, she had been clad in a dark red dress—courtesy of Barbossa. Her long, silky hazel hair ran down her back in small curls, which seemed to complement her brown eyes and fair complexion.

Now she no longer owned the dress. It had become a hindrance to wear on a ship, and had been unceremoniously tossed overboard. She had borrowed a pair of dark brown slacks from Anamaria, along with a loose-fitted white shirt, which was now stained with dirt and grime.

Her hair was chestnut colored; dirty and greasy, and hung limply over her shoulders. Her eyes, once beautiful and full of emotion, had turned a slate grey, and now expressed indolence and grief. Her face appeared tanned and grubby, and dark circles had formed under her eyes.

_But I still love her_, Will thought to himself as a small grin graced his lips. He ran a dirty hand through his equally dirty hair, and now fully awake, addressed Elizabeth.

"Can you repeat that?" he asked benevolently with a touch of apprehensiveness in his tone.

Elizabeth lowered her voice and eyed the area dubiously. "Jack has awakened," she replied tentatively. "But there appears to be a…misplacement, as it were." She once again eyed the area.

Will's face showed no anxiety; he seemed impassive and indifferent. "And how am I concerned?" he questioned in a nonchalant manner.

"We need your assistance," Elizabeth hissed in response, leaving no room for questions or complaints. Will was fortunate enough to catch the edge in her tone, and hastily hauled himself to full height.

"Take me to him," Will directed emotionlessly as he massaged the numbness out of his limbs. Elizabeth merely bobbed her head in reply, and led Will up the companionway leading to the Captains' cabin.

The trip itself was not far, but just long enough for Will to ponder what could have possible happened to Jack. And what did Elizabeth mean when she said, "misplacement"?

The door to the Captains' cabin was shut tight, and the room beyond it appeared deathly silent. An eerie tension hung in the air, which only further encouraged Will's curiosity, evoking him to question Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth, what's going on? What happened to Jack?" Will's voice was raised moderately, giving way to his apprehensiveness. Elizabeth simply shook her head in a manner that said, "I don't know."

She raised a slightly shaky hand to tentatively knock on the door. The sound that followed rang in Will's ears, causing him to shudder. There was a moment of silence before the cold doorknob slowly began to turn. It opened only somewhat ajar, allowing a thin trail of light to slide through.

The weary, dubious face of Gibbs was soon revealed. Upon first glance of the two, he gingerly opened the door wider and stepped aside to let them in.

"Don't much know what 'appened to him…" Gibbs mumbled near-inaudibly as he stared at the floor in thought. He said not another word, and moved off to the side to press himself against a wall, unwilling to peel his gaze from the ground.

Elizabeth was first to enter the room, followed by Will cautiously trailing behind. Elizabeth only had to take one glance at the scene before her, before halting in mid-step and letting out a loud gasp.

Will followed her gaze and took in the anomalous sight before him with wide eyes. The first thing he caught sight of was Anamaria, standing stiffly to the side with a look of shock and disbelief written on her features.

Beside her was Jack's berth, which, unlike the other crewmen, consisted of a small, sagging bed with tainted sheets and a single pillow. In his mind, Will had anticipated he would see Jack lying motionless on the bed, but instead he was met with not a man, but a child.

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The child looked to be 3 or 4 years old. He had dark brown hair, lined with streaks of coal. It was shaggy and unruly, and looked like a worn mop stuck to his head. Few beads, braids and trinkets adorned his mess of hair, making it look even more unkempt.

He was clad in naught but an incredibly oversized white shirt that slipped off his shoulder and revealed dirty, tanned skin. A dark blue vest, pair of slacks and a striped sash were tangled about his figure, amid a rumpled quilt and a pair of large boots.

His face was especially striking, with his pudgy, tanned cheeks tinted with red, a button nose, small lips and big, innocent eyes. His eyes were probably his most conspicuous of features, as both Will and Elizabeth seemed entranced by them.

"W-What…who is this?" Will asked finally, breaking the silence that had taken hold of everyone. The attention of the 3 adults was then focused on the young Turner. They all had the same expression reflecting on their face; disbelief.

"That be our C…Cap'n…" Gibbs replied softly, blinking in shock at the seemingly foreign words. His eyes trailed over to the boy, who hadn't moved at all in a long while.

Will shook his head, his astonished expression changing to anger. This was a joke, right? This…this _child_ couldn't _possibly_ be Jack Sparrow! Jack was a man—a full-grown man! Not a child!

"You've got to be joking!" Will spat abruptly, glaring at Gibbs and Anamaria, whom he thought were the main suspects of this cruel trickery.

Gibbs refused to respond, returning his gaze to the ground and shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Obviously, the strain and tension in the air was becoming near suffocating, to the point where he was almost frightened to breathe.

"Will," Elizabeth addressed the young man in a monotonous voice. "I don't think he's lying…" she trailed off, her stunned, unblinking stare never leaving the young child's face.

Will's mouth fell agape. "Elizabeth, you don't honestly believe them, do you?" he didn't get it; what was there to believe? This was obviously just some prank those two thought up to frighten them. And what stunned Will even more, was that it was actually working.

Elizabeth exhaled sharply, her face contorting into a bizarre expression. She opened her mouth slowly, closed it, then opened it again. It was almost as if she were having trouble forming coherent words.

"Will," she uttered at last in a rather low, eloquent tone. "Look at his eyes…" she paused and jerked her head to one side, as if just being struck across the face.

Will grunted in reply, but nonetheless doggedly stepped forward and, with a resolute air about him, ambled over to the sagging bed. He halted in front of it and bowed down so he was level with the child.

The sudden and unceremonious advancement evoked shivers from the youngster, who backed away in fear at the tall man who loomed before him. Will was unfazed by the obvious fear, and abruptly cupped the child's chin in his coarse hand, forcing him to look upwards so they were face to face, only inches apart.

Will relentlessly searched through the dark eyes of the child; taking in every deep streak of obsidian or sudden exposing emotion that appeared. His tenacious grip on the kid restrained him from pulling away.

The boy's eyes were deep, meaningful and warm; expressing honesty, ingenuousness, uncertainty, and purity. The irises were painted a dark brown color. Streaks of onyx coursed through like scars upon flesh that almost emerged as confined windows leading into his mind; into his soul.

The pupils were like chunks of obsidian, reminiscent to a black hole. Unlike the irises they expressed no emotion at all. It was almost as if they were locked doors, unwilling to open and allow one to enter, to see beyond and gaze upon what lie behind. Secrets, lies, truths, love, hatred, sadness, trust, loyalty, devotion, honesty..._life_…

Will abruptly averted his eyes and twisted his head to one side, so he could avoid the pitying detrimental stare of the child. He wrenched his hand out from under the boys' chin, causing him to lurch forward unstably with a squeaky "Oomph!"

The boy was quick to regain his composure and steadied himself into a more comfortable praying-style position on the bed, where he proceeded to cast miserable and piteous stares at everyone, like a dog begging for food.

Will stood up and turned around to face the 3 adults; who were all sporting the same anticipated look on their features. "It's Jack," The young blacksmith uttered stoically. "It's definitely Jack."

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The youngster scanned the area around him with large, questioning eyes. He cautiously took in all the people, scents and noises around him, as he was still yet to become accommodated to his surroundings. He raised a pudgy hand and ran it through his dirty hair, brushing it in a sideways motion across his forehead to keep it from blocking his view.

In his hand he firmly grasped a lumpy scone—one of the many stale biscuits that had been placed in front of him earlier, along with a clay wine jar half-full of clean freshwater. Fortunately, Barbossa had stocked up a lot of rations in the galley, which one of Jack's crewman had been lucky to stumble across earlier.

Elizabeth sat across from Jack, watching the child eat with curious eyes. She marveled at how much he had changed. His appearance, his personality, his characteristics…even the way he treated people was different.

Jack had changed from an obnoxious, cheating, ruthless pirate to a shy, quiet and downright adorable little boy. It was truly miraculous and, as cruel as it sounds, Elizabeth was actually rather grateful to the sudden striking illness that had transformed the man.

_Perhaps now we can reform him into a polite member of society,_ Elizabeth thought to herself. She smiled at the idea of a kind, civil Jack wearing the traditional clothes worn by high-class men in Port Royal.

At that moment, the door to the diminutive galley creaked opened to reveal the hunched, scowling form of Will Turner. His face was cast downwards, dark eyes directed to the ground. There was a certain animus ambiance surrounding him, and it radiated from him strongly.

He was angry.

Little Jack swallowed the morsel of food in his mouth with a noisy gulp. His unblinking gaze was set upon Will, the emotion swirling within the dark hues was a mixture of fear, shame and hunger.

Will was the first person Jack had seen when he'd awoken. The dark-haired man hadn't appear too friendly, atleast, to Jack he hadn't. In fact, there was a certain hostile aura about him, one which frightened the child.

Jack could distinctly remember the cold touch of Will's callused hand on his chin, the sensation of his warm breath on the boys' skin, and most of all, the expression written on Will's face. An expression of animosity, of disbelief, of hatred.

And Jack had known in that moment, when Will's eyes locked with his, that the elder male didn't like him.

The Turner's brown eyes focused upon Jack, and the child instantly averted his eyes. He stared down at the scone gripped tightly in his little hand. The moldy bread was stale and hard, and when he applied pressure to, it began to crumple.

Jack warily eyed the crumbling scone, before raising his fingers to his mouth and delicately licking off the crumbs clinging to his skin. The taste was bitter and dry, just like Will's feelings toward Jack.

"Is there something bothering you, Jack?" Elizabeth questioned in concern when she'd caught a glance of Jack's despondent face.

"Ummm…" The child lowered his hand and wiped it across his pants. "It's that man," he returned his gaze to Will, but quickly averted it again.

"Who, Will?" Elizabeth cocked her head to one side, curiosity shining in her honey-colored eyes. "What about him?" there was a certain soft touch to her voice, not at all like the usually rough and somewhat cold tone she used when speaking to the old Jack.

Jack fiddled with his fingers and apprehensively tugged at the wide collar of his over-sized shirt. "He…he doesn't like me." Once the words had sunk in to both of them, the child directed his stare to the floor. His face shaded a bright red in shame.

He knew it was true.

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**--And So It Is Done. I Honestly Hope You Enjoyed It, And I Do Realize That There Are Grammar And Spelling Mistakes. I Apologize. I Re-Read This Chapter Twice, But I'm Certain That I Missed Some. Thank You For Reading.**


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